Regan's Reach

by Mark G Brewer

  As they plodded around the last bend into the bay she reached forward and tapped Marin on the shoulder.

  "Join me for a coffee in the galley after you've cleaned up?" She asked nicely knowing he'd become a fan of the drink.

  "Sure. I'll meet you there."

  They walked back via the elevator and split apart to their rooms to shower. Regan needed to sort things out quickly. If Ham had them on schedule there were only two more weeks to prepare for what she knew would be the next most exciting/terrifying moment of her life. She wanted a friend, not an unknown, and Marin had proved hard to reach despite her best efforts. Ham said he just needed time; well she'd tried, it was time for a more direct approach.

  A long luxurious shower later, Regan dressed and made for the galley and control.

  [Morning Ham. . . . How's our friend doing?]

  [Yes it is a good morning.] Ham somehow managed to convey cheeriness in a thought. [Our patient is in the control room waiting. I think he enjoys your company more than he'd like to admit.]

  Regan smiled and to her embarrassment unconsciously gave a small skip as she entered the lift. What are you so happy about, she thought? As the doors opened she could see Marin sitting in her chair, feet up, with his hands behind his head staring at the blank screen.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" she called.

  "What?" Marin's feet slipped off the console he had been using and he almost fell forward.

  "It's an old Earth expression. I'll give you some money for your thoughts. It means, what are you thinking?"

  "How much?" he asked.

  "Pardon?"

  "How much will you give me for my thoughts?"

  She cocked her head and then saw he was smiling. Only weeks earlier that would have been the strangest smile in the world she thought. Now it was just good to see another happy face.

  "Coffee?” she asked.

  "Yes - I was waiting for you." He unfolded himself from the chair and stood, tall!

  Together they walked through to the galley and Marin poured coffee. She could tell he was watching her out of the corner of his eyes as she mashed banana paste into the roughage. She finished and they reversed roles. Carrying their coffee and mash into control Regan took her normal seat without thinking. Marin stopped for a moment, just looking at her. Then without a word he sat in the seat beside hers and turned toward her.

  [He usually sits there.] Ham quickly explained.

  Regan jumped. "Sorry Marin, I didn't think, where do you usually sit, this is your control room."

  "I sit here." he replied, straight faced.

  [Liar, he's clearly smitten with you, it's pathetic!]

  [Shut up Ham and talk if you're going to say anything.] She could tell Marin noticed she was distracted and he suddenly asked.

  "You can talk with the ship?"

  "I, err . . ."

  "Yes Marin, she can talk with the ship." Ham intervened. "There was no way of knowing whether you would ever surface before we got back. It was a safety precaution and she didn't know it was happening. I take full responsibility."

  Marin stood, not quite as impressively as he might have intended with coffee in one hand and a bowl in the other.

  "The ship can't take responsibility . . . this will be my responsibility! No ship can make decisions like that. Disaster upon disaster, I'm dead!"

  Regan jumped in. "Don't be melodramatic. I don't have to reveal anything; I'll just keep this to myself and will you please stop referring to Ham as 'ship', he has a name."

  Marin sat back down, sullen and clearly trying to restrain himself.

  "That's right." Ham added, ever helpful. "Show some respect."

  Marin sipped his coffee and paused, looking into the cup. "I have been patient with you referring to the ship as Ham. As a child I too had such thoughts however," and he thumped the console with the bowl spilling mash on the floor, "this, is solid! Just electronics and mechanicals, it's a machine, not a Ham!"

  Regan stood, put down her cup and bowl and stepped up to Marin's chair. She reached up and with her knuckles rapped Marin's head hard, a clear knock reverberating around the room.

  "And," she said "this," knock! "is hard," knock! "too you fooool! You are a machine! You're a self replicating, self repairing, biological machine and you too are operated by electronics. I know our physiology is very close. There's enough electrical power operating in your brain to power a light bulb!"

  "In his case it's a very small light bulb!" Ham interjected. "A torch bulb, a small one!"

  Regan sat back down with Marin, who appeared still stunned by the raps on his head.

  She continued more gently, appealing to him. "Haven't you ever heard of the ghost in the machine?"

  "What are you talking about?" Marin looked blank.

  "It's an expression, 'the ghost in the machine'. You have a body, this incredible biological machine. But in there is also 'you', you're the ghost. Likewise the ship is a body. Solid, electronic, incredibly complex in its construction, but there's something else. Ham is there now. Ham is the ghost in this machine, don't you see?

  "Oh . . . I . . . love . . . this . . . woman!" Ham interrupted "What have you got to say to that big boy!"

  Marin stood up angrily "That you need to show some respect." he retorted.

  "Listen to yourself, Marin." Regan challenged him, "I heard you then, and I've heard you many times before, you refer to this ship in the first person.

  You said, 'you' need to show some respect." she repeated. "Marin, who is 'you'?"

  Ham actually laughed. "Got ya! Ha-ha."

  "Let's change the subject please." Marin tried to get onto safer ground and he sat before continuing. "None of this changes the fact that my people will not accept this truth. If they suspect you have a web, they will assume I have abandoned protocol and I am dead meat. If they know the ship . . . Ham, made the decision, then they will nuke it and probably me along with it. What will happen to you? Who knows?"

  "Then let's go back to Earth!" Even as she blurted out the words Regan knew it wasn't possible, something was clearly wrong with Marin. "Forget that." she quickly added. "Marin, I know something is wrong with you, if there is any chance it can be fixed I think you should go for it and I'll stay quiet. Maybe I could stay on the ship?"

  Marin sat silently, just looking at Regan.

  She responded with another most human of gestures, palms out, a shrug of the shoulders, "What, come on, speak to me?"

  "Why would you do this? Why take this risk? Is it because you know you're trapped?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

  She just looked at him, shocked. "Well first, I've never thought of myself as trapped on this adventure so thank you for that insight. Listen, I'm not stupid Marin; I made a judgement call when Ham asked me to help. It was a choice, to walk away or do the right thing. I'm not perfect but I try to do what I hope others would do for me. It wasn't hard and I'm here. Yes, I hope to get home, but Ham hasn't hidden anything from me and I think I know what's at stake here."

  "Why were you there in the first place? It would be so much easier if you weren't." He thumped his forehead with his palm. "I made sure I was well away from the usual paths."

  "I was going to visit a special place." Regan paused, knowing this would be a sensitive area for them both. Had Ham told Marin that she knew the truth? "My father died up there a long time ago, he fell on Mt Gouland. I've never had the courage to go there before and this was my goodbye."

  Marin stared at her, shocked. "Did you get there?"

  She hesitated before answering. "No. . . Ham called me, but don't worry, this was more important and this is what Dad would have wanted me to do. I don't have any regrets."

  Marin leapt to his feet, suddenly all righteous courage. "We will take you there!"

  Regan also stood and put one hand on his arm. "Marin, I chose this course and I'm happy to see it through. It's important to me now that you get every chance to fix whatever has been damaged."

  "You don't unde
rstand, Regan," and he turned away. "If there's damage to the web they can't just replace it, replacement interfacing with a new web is like extra scar tissue, it's not done."

  "Not done? Or not usually done, there's a difference and we don't know yet that it needs changing at all." Regan wasn't giving up.

  Marin looked in despair.

  "Fuck it Marin, don't be such a wuss! This isn't the person I imagined, that I know you must be. You're an adventurer, bold enough to travel the fucking galaxy on your own. . ."

  "Hellooo!" Ham burst in.

  "Well, you know what I mean. Who could do what you do without going crazy? Be that man now, I won't accept anything less!"

  "I agree Marin." Ham could be reasonable. "We can make this work and these people have a saying, one for all and . . ."

  "All for one. . . I know it." Marin drew in a great breath. "It may cost everything, for both of you. I can't take that responsibility."

  "You don't have to, we're already agreed," Regan insisted, "and just in case things don't work out, let's plan how we can defend the ship. I have some ideas I'd like us to try and hey, it could be fun."

  "Oh joy, I love it!" Ham sounded exultant.

  Regan continued. "For now, let's sit back down and finish breakfast. I need to know what I'm facing when I get there and I'll bet your mom's a real ball breaker. Tell me about your family, tell me who 'they' are and why this is such a big deal. Then we'll work out a way to solve this. Think of it as a new adventure Marin, maybe we'll break some new ground."

  They talked for two hours straight, like new friends. The ice had broken and even Marin was joking with Ham as they told old stories. If she’d had any doubts about the challenge they faced when they reached Dahlia they were soon gone. Ham had said they were paranoid and privately she had laughed. Now she could see the environment at home was part of the reason Marin liked to get away. He wasn't into watching his back all the time and he hated the politics. While Regan hadn't asked directly her impression was that Marin's family was strongly matriarchal, with everything revolving around his mother. He had openly shared the loss of his father with her, but not how it happened or where. She decided to leave it for him to bring up in his own time. Regardless, it seemed his mother now held significant influence on the orbital which sounded rife with conflicting family rivalries, all hidden beneath a veneer of respect. During their talk she wondered how this people had developed so far technologically. Ham eventually pointed out the obvious. Most development had occurred in a period several generations before this one. At some point the society had become focused around preservation rather than exploration. They were desperate to preserve the status quo and resisted anything new.

  "So, in your society you must be seen as a bit of an oddball?" She said to Marin. Regan leaned forward, interested to see his reaction.

  He was in a good mood and held his arms out indicating the ship. "I think this is the oddball."

  Silence. . .

  "I'm sorry," He laughed. “Ham is the oddball!"

  Ham ignored the comment. "Regan is right; you're definitely an oddball by your own people's standards. They're too comfortable, too content and their desire to explore has been lost. They experience no threats other than themselves and they have no compelling reason to grow or develop, so they coast. You, on the other hand, can't stay still. You roam whenever you can, wherever you can. You take insane risks outside protocols and though I hate to admit it, you are a breath of fresh air."

  "Huh," Marin responded in mock despair, "That's air about to be expelled!"

  Time to move on Regan thought, a change of subject perhaps? "I think it's time we clearly delineated Ham from the ship, this ship definitely needs a name."

  "It has a name, it's Ham." Marin protested.

  "Marin, you still don't get it, Ham is the ghost, the mind of the ship. What do you think Ham?"

  "I'd like to call it the Stein”, he said, 'the Stein Traveler'."

  Regan was momentarily shocked and embarrassed but Marin couldn't resist a jibe. "You're going to allow yourself to be branded with her name?"

  "Well unlike some, I'm not likely to be branded in any other way." He sounded disappointed.

  Regan quickly intervened. "Let's take a break guys. I desperately need a bathroom stop and to eat. I'm starving. I suggest we break, and then meet again to discuss my ideas for defense. No one is going to destroy this Stein Traveler."

  The control room took up half the area of level two, Pods and Interceptors being level one. The elevator shaft filled the center of all levels including the saucer. On level two the other half of the area opposite Control was broken into a small galley, ablutions and this larger segment, a meeting room. Regan renamed it the war room, a reference to home that felt good, like a connection.

  Now, sat at the large central table, coffees and food at hand, Regan had Ham explain the workings of the Infinitely Variable Spinning Displacer. Much of the explanation of course was science well beyond her comprehension, but the practical applications were another story.

  "So . . ." She back took the lead, "If in atmosphere the Variable Spinning Displacer is displacing volumes of air or gas, which is mass, from one side of the vessel to the other, could it also displace solids? After all, in vacuum you said that it displaces the ship instead."

  "Yes, of course," Ham replied, "depending on what the mass is. In atmosphere we move air, low mass but there is great pressure created. It still requires enormous energy to maintain constant and smooth movement. Fortunately we have no shortage of energy. In space we move the ship yes, but into vacuum, very little resistance but still enormous energy required. Remember we're talking about many thousands of small displacements per second. Regan, what do you have in mind?"

  "What I'm wondering is if someone fired a missile at you, could you simply displace it to the other side of the ship and let it continue on its path? . . . Is that a stupid question?"

  "Hmm, the surfaces of the ship, including Pods, Interceptors and Transport are constructed so that they're both strong and active. There are literally hundreds of millions of tiny effectors built into the hull, so many that at first glance the appearance of the surface is smooth. From even a small distance away they can't be seen but as you may have noticed, the appearance is matt black, not gloss. The effectors are the displacers, each doing a tiny part of the whole process. In the direction of travel the effectors most forward are displacing the most with the effect lessening the farther from that centre you get. As I redirect the ship the centre of concentration shifts so that we can move in any direction. Now, to answer your question, the problem of displacing a larger object outside the ship is that the field of displacement has to reach out, like a bulge. The further the field has to reach out the more energy is required, still possible, but it might take away from maneuverability. Also, the speed of the incoming missile might mean that the displacement is occurring at only the very last fraction of a second. Keep a spare pair of clean underwear handy!"

  "But it could be done?" Regan persisted.

  "It's possible." Ham sounded interested.

  "Can we try?"

  "Not unless you have a missile handy and I'm not sure it's a good idea anyway. As I've already explained, collision is something we do everything to avoid."

  "Of course," Regan wasn't giving up, "but what if we tried dropping out a drone or something, then flew into it with only our momentum and tried displacing it behind us, that would be like the same thing wouldn't it?"

  Marin shifted uncomfortably. "I don't like the sound of this and I can't believe you're even considering it."

  "Neither do I," said Ham, "it sounds like you want to play billiards with the ship!"

  "Look at it this way," said Regan, "If we get to Dahlia . . ."

  "Dahlia?" asked Marin

  "I'll explain later," she dismissed him with a gesture. "As I was saying, if we get to Dahlia and someone really does throw a nuclear tipped pool cue at you Ham, it might be handy to send it on its wa
y, don't you think? Then you can effect your escape."

  "I suppose we could try something small first." Ham sounded both reluctant and doubtful.

  "Ham!" Marin interjected, alarmed. "Even a small object could skewer the ship, you're both mad."

  "Hey, I'm not even finished, if it works I have an even more cunning idea," said Regan, delighted at the prospect. "And it's something dear to my heart. When can we start?"

  "Listen," said Ham, "if it doesn't work we won't need any other ideas! Ok, we have one more opportunity when we make our last line change in two days. We can hold there for some trials and then make the last wave home . . ."

  They endured two more days of training, gym, track and not much else, though Regan was enjoying the time with both Marin and Ham. At times, even while doing the most mundane thing, she would pause stunned, considering how amazing this was, where she was, what she was doing and with whom. The thoughts could stop her in her tracks and then with a laugh she would move on.

  For the last two days however, this moment and the anticipation of it had dominated her thinking. Rubbing her hands together now she looked at the small barrel distantly visible on the screen. Ham said it was solid and of course it had to be to mimic the mass of a missile. He had ejected it into space immediately after coming out of warp and now they would spend the next day or so playing with it.

  As Ham accelerated the ship toward it she reviewed his briefing from that morning. She knew that based on Hams modeling there was a possibility the displacement field would break down. His visual showed the field would bulge out from the sphere of the ship but the further it extended, the more the sides of the field would contract so the effect was as if looking at a teardrop. Ham worried that if he pushed it too far the teardrop could break away, or more likely collapse.